


Caretaker (Ralph/Jerry)

by e_n_silvermane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Human AU, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_n_silvermane/pseuds/e_n_silvermane
Summary: Ralph gets sick and needs someone to take care of him for a while.Kara knows a guy.(Human AU)





	Caretaker (Ralph/Jerry)

As soon as Ralph woke up, he knew something was wrong.  
His head was throbbing like mad, his mouth was dry, and he could barely breathe through his nose. Classic cold symptoms, of course, but there were more: his body was achy, his face burned, and he was shivering like he was in the middle of a frightful blizzard. This was not good, not at all.  
He tried to make it to the kitchen for some water, but when he stood up, his body protested heavily and the head rush was so sudden he collapsed back into bed without warning. At this rate, there was no way he’d be able to do anything.  
Ralph’s first solution was to go back to sleep, which would have been fine if he hadn’t felt like absolute garbage. Before he had been merely uncomfortable while lying in bed, now it was like someone had taken a mallet to his head and shoved several yards of cotton up his nose.  
His second solution was to try and ease himself up out of his nest of blankets, instead of standing up straight away. It worked fairly well until Ralph attempted to walk to the kitchen, at which point his legs decided that the distance was too far and brought him to his knees. Ralph was absolutely miserable. Every tremble made his face flush with heat, and with every racking breath he felt worse than before. He did his best to keep his mind off of how crummy he felt, because usually distraction worked, but there was really nothing he could do. After an hour of trying (unsuccessfully, you might imagine) to get out of bed and function like he was supposed to, he gave in and called Kara.  
“Hello?”  
“Kara,” He rasped, wheezed a tiny cough, and rasped some more, “Kara, Ralph needs your help.”  
“Ralph?” Her voice was concerned. “You sound terrible. Are you sick?”  
“Yes,” He managed to croak without wheezing.  
“Oh no, oh dear,” Kara worried away on the other end of the line. “Have you got a fever? You poor thing… does your head hurt? How about your chest? Your back? Do you have a cough? Don’t worry, I’ll send someone over—”  
“Kara?” Ralph couldn’t say much more, for fear he would choke on air from trying not to cough loudly.  
“I won’t be able to make it, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Her voice was still worried, and it sounded as if there were somebody in the background. Little voices, yelling. Alice, maybe. “Alice has her friends over right now, I really can’t leave them alone. I’m sorry, sweetie. But Jerry will take very good care of you, I’m sure.”  
Jerry… Ralph had met him before. Kara’s best friend, yes, that was who, wasn’t it? He was a nice man. Ralph’s head was pounding now as he said thank you and hung up the phone. He couldn’t remember what Jerry looked like, except...maybe he had red hair. Yes, that might’ve been it.  
His vision swam from the stinging behind his eyes and he let out a pained whine. Why did he have to get sick now? Why did he have to get sick at all?  
Ralph must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to a slightly less agonizing headache and the doorbell ringing.  
It took him a while—he kept falling down in the hallway, the pounding in his ears made him lose his balance and he could barely see through the bed sheet he had tossed over his head (a half-hearted attempt at hiding his scar)—but he eventually made it to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open slowly.  
So he does have red hair, Ralph thought to himself as Jerry’s green eyes widened in worry.  
“Ralph? Ralph, can you hear me?”  
“Huh? Oh, yes, Ralph can hear you,” he answered absent-mindedly, pressing his nose to make sure it was still attached to his face—he couldn’t feel it at all, but didn’t mind much. It was the headache that really bothered him.  
“Can I come in?”  
“Um-hm.” Ralph nodded and left the door hanging open, trundling back to bed so he could curl up and hopefully make the pain behind his eyes go away.  
Jerry set down his green fabric bag (stuffed with food and some over-the-counter medicines) in the kitchen and followed the blond man to the back of the house. “I don’t mean to prod, but do you have a headache? Earache? Any other ache I should know about?” He paused and watched Ralph climb into bed carefully, as if he were made of glass. “May I check your temperature?”  
“Yes, no, maybe—hurts all over—and yes.” Ralph made his responses concise so he wouldn’t have to talk much, and tucked his bed sheet carefully around his face, so he could see Jerry clearly through his good eye.  
“Sore throat, too, I’m guessing.” Jerry mused. Ralph nodded.  
“Would you like some water?”  
Ralph nodded again.  
“Alright, I’ll get you some.”  
The redheaded man promptly brought back a glass of cold water and went off again, padding around the house in search of a thermometer. He returned just as Ralph managed to grasp the glass.  
“Hold on one second,” Jerry said, gently taking the water from him. “Temperature first, then water.”  
Ralph frowned at this, but he knew that the water would affect the reading the thermometer gave. He begrudgingly opened his mouth so the thermometer could be popped in, and held it under his tongue as Jerry stood over him, looking more worried by the second as the temperature ticked up and up and up.  
Green. His eyes were green. But, Ralph noticed as the thermometer beeped and Jerry looked closely at it to make sure he was seeing things right, there were little flecks of gold among that pretty shade of forest.  
“One hundred two point one,” Jerry murmured worriedly, and left to rinse and put away the thermometer. Ralph began to tremble again and nestled further into his pile of blankets, despite the heat that rose to his face and the blond bangs that stuck to his forehead.  
“Oh, no you don’t.” Jerry had apparently returned. His voice was firm, but his green eyes were gentle, if not a little apprehensive. “Come on, ditch the quilt.”  
“No thank you,” Ralph said politely, wheezing a little and reaching for his glass of water.  
Jerry stood in the doorway and watched him drink about half the glass of water, and only made a move when the glass was safely on the bedside table again. “We can’t have you under so many blankets, Ralph, you’ll make the fever worse.”  
Well, why not. Worse things had been said by someone who was trying to pull blankets off of him, so Ralph figured he had better just sit there and try to be less sick while his caretaker folded quilts and fleece and placed them in neat little stacks at the end of his bed. All that was left for him to curl into was a thin bed sheet printed with little cacti in red pots, and a lightweight cotton blanket that was about as comfortable as a dish rag. Ralph wasn’t exactly sure why he still had it. Actually, he wasn’t entirely sure where he got it from. And—oh, wait, Jerry was trying to tell him something.  
“Ralph? Ralph. Come on, hon, I know you can hear me.” Jerry was bending over him again, green-gold speckled eyes all pretty and troubled. “Here, I’ve got a nice cool washcloth—you tell me if it’s too cold, okay?”  
As Jerry pulled back the blanket and smoothed his bangs out to the side, pressing the cool damp cloth to his forehead, Ralph became acutely aware of the fact that his scars were very, very visible. And even though his feverish brain reminded him too late of how Jerry had seen that side of his face already, though maybe not completely or up close, Ralph hurriedly smacked a hand over his left cheekbone and tried to cover up as much of the bright pink marks as he could. His face stung a little where his hand laid, and the headache seemed to double.  
“Does it hurt?” Jerry tossed the cloth back in the bowl of water he had sitting in his lap and cradled Ralph’s head gently. “Where does it hurt? Just point for me.”  
“Doesn’t hurt,” Ralph shook his head quickly and then regretted it, clutching his temples with both hands. “Actually, yes, it doe—ow, ow ow ow!”  
Jerry looked a little panicked, but to his credit, remained calm. “I’ll get you some medicine, then. Is Tylenol okay?”  
Ralph mouthed a silent yes.  
“Alright, just sit tight. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”  
The next thing he knew, Ralph was trying unsuccessfully to swallow a pill.  
“Ralph has never—” A sudden cough wracked his body. “—swallowed a pill before. On purpose.”  
“I can tell,” said Jerry, who had already been back to the kitchen twice to refill Ralph’s glass of water and get a few graham crackers. “Here, just try to put it back on your tongue—okay, now take some water and lean your head back as far as you can, that helps—”  
The pill tickled funnily as it went down, and it left a bitter taste in Ralph’s mouth, which he didn’t like. He tucked the bed sheet closer around his face and asked for a graham cracker quietly.  
Jerry beamed and gave him one. “I’m proud of you, Ralph. I know it wasn’t the best experience, but it’ll help out a lot, you’ll see.”  
Back to patting the right side of his face with the cloth. Even if the blond man didn’t particularly enjoy the close proximity, he did like watching the little gold flecks in Jerry’s eyes and the way they seemed to flicker when he was happy or worried.  
“Ralph likes Jerry’s eyes,” He remarked as the redheaded man finally set down the bowl and the wash cloth.  
“Why, thank you, I like yours too!” The smile that graced his lips was too good to be true. Ralph felt his heart stutter and he put a hand to his left eye—covered by the bed sheet, because he deemed it too ugly to be seen as a part of his face.  
Jerry didn’t notice the hazel eye peeping at him from beneath blond fringe as he checked his watch. “It’s about time for lunch, wouldn’t you say?”  
Though the fever had gone down significantly (Jerry had checked once or twice already and it was slowly but surely inching down to one hundred degrees), Ralph still felt ill enough to not be hungry. He would’ve liked something to eat, he supposed, because it was around the time he would usually have lunch, but he just didn’t have an appetite.  
“No worries,” Jerry said. “I can make you something whenever you feel like eating.”  
“Thank you,” Ralph rasped softly, and then let out an unexpected yawn.  
“You should get some rest.” Jerry smoothed down his blond hair fondly and smiled. “I’ll be reading in the living room. Just give a little shout if you need anything.”  
“Okay.” Ralph smiled back, and hugged the blankets closer, cuddling up for a noontime snooze as the medicine finally caught up with him and began to ease away his headache. “Jerry?”  
“Yes?” He paused mid-step as he was going out the door for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Ralph’s curious hazel and milky-gold eyes peered at him from under the bed sheet with the little red-potted cacti on it.  
There was a long silence before Ralph asked shyly, “Do you like both eyes?”  
Jerry smiled even wider. “Of course! Both of your eyes are very pretty.”  
Ralph mused over this and smiled back cutely. “Thank you, Jerry.”  
“You’re welcome.” And with that, Ralph fell back into a dreamless-yet-restful sleep.  
That was around noon. Jerry decided to have a nibble of the food he’d brought over, and then settled down on the sofa to read a while, enjoying the sunshine streaming into the room from the skylight.  
One chapter, two chapters, then three. Four chapters. Five. Then, in the middle of the sixth chapter, at about two-thirty in the afternoon, Ralph stumbled into the living room with the cacti-printed bed sheet draped over his head like he was pretending to be a ghost.  
“Jerry?”  
“Mhm?” Jerry put his book down and stood up to offer Ralph his hand. Ralph took it gratefully and stumbled towards him.  
“Ralph is hungry.”  
“Well, we can certainly fix that, can’t we?” The redheaded man gently led his friend to the dining room. “How do you feel about soup?”  
“What kind?” Ralph asked, sitting down in his usual chair and pulling his blanket tightly around him.  
“I can make chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, garlic spinach soup, miso soup...”  
“Tomato soup sounds nice,” Ralph offered.  
“Tomato it is!”  
As the soup simmered on the stove, Jerry carried on a gentle conversation while he checked Ralph’s temperature. Ninety-nine point five. Could be lower, but not bad.  
“How do you feel?”  
“Better.” Ralph peeked out from behind the blanket again, and Jerry fought the urge to ‘awww’ at his cute antics. “Ralph says thank you to Jerry. Jerry is a kind caretaker. He’s very nice.” His blonde eyelashes fluttered nervously and his face flushed pink, though not from the fever. “Jerry is a very sweet man and he has pretty eyes, and Ralph likes him a lot.” He began to fidget. “So Ralph says thank you for taking care of him.”  
“And you’re very welcome!” Jerry patted his friend gently on the head. “Thank you for being so pleasant and forgiving. Taking care of you has been wonderful.” He paused. “Though not as wonderful for you, I’d guess.”  
“Ralph will be better soon, he thinks,” Ralph smiled behind his cactus bed sheet. “And maybe then he and Jerry can have more fun!”  
“Yup! We’ll have to see each other soon... maybe we can go to the park and take a walk around, see the birds... That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”  
“Very fun!” Ralph wiggled around happily in his chair and Jerry smiled, walking over to check on the bubbling tomato mixture.  
“Do you want crackers with your soup? I could make you a sandwich, too, if you’d like.”  
“No thank you,” The blond man chirped like a parakeet, and clapped excitedly when Jerry set a bowl of steaming tomato soup down in front of him.  
“It’s hot,” The redheaded man warned, but there was no need. Ralph held the spoon with both hands and leaned over the bowl, breathing in the steam deeply.  
Jerry watched him curiously for a few moments, before Ralph looked up suddenly.  
“Did you know—” was all he got out before he felt his blanket flopping back over his chair from the quick movement. With a yelp, Ralph tried to pull the blanket back up over his head and accidentally knocked the bowl, nearly sending it to the floor. Thankfully, though, Jerry leapt forward and kept it from teetering over and spilling.  
“Ralph is sorry,” The blanket had fallen past the back of his chair now and he had his face in his hands, tugging on his bangs and trembling. He was fiercely determined to not let Jerry see him, for fear of the lovely green-eyed man being disgusted—or worse, feeling pity for him and his scars. “Ralph is sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry! He didn’t mean to knock over the soup, Ralph is really sorry—”  
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Jerry pushed the bowl towards the middle of the table so it wouldn’t almost spill again, gently taking Ralph’s hands and pulling them away so he could see that his tomato soup was just fine.  
Ralph saw, quickly apologized and thanked Jerry one more time, and put his hands back over his face.  
“R-Ralph looked up, Ralph looked up to tell you that steam from soup helps you breathe.” His voice was shaky.  
“Yes, that’s right. It does.” Jerry agreed, patting Ralph’s shoulder nicely. “That’s why people tell you to take hot baths when you’re sick. Steam helps a lot, but I never learned exactly how. Do you know?”  
“No.” Ralph shook his head and let go of his face with one hand to pull the blanket back over his head, and sat for a moment before reaching out with quivering hands and gathering up the soup and spoon again. Slowly, he began to eat, and Jerry sat down in the chair next to him, unsure of what he could say to make Ralph feel better.  
“What should we do after lunch?” Jerry asked softly, and Ralph seemed to think for a moment before answering,  
“Ralph will go back to bed.”  
“Okay.”  
The spoon clinked against the bowl a few more times before Jerry added, “Unless…”  
The clinking stopped. Ralph still wouldn’t face him, but Jerry could tell he was curious. It took a few seconds, but Ralph asked,  
“Unless what?”  
“Unless you want me to read to you.”  
A few more spoonfuls of tomato soup were consumed as Ralph mulled over this.  
Just as Jerry was about to give up and say ‘never mind’, Ralph asked quietly,  
“What book?”

After Ralph’s small meal of tomato soup (followed by some water, crackers, and more Tylenol), they cozied up on the sofa together, and Jerry told Ralph about the first five chapters of the book he had been reading. Mermaids and pirates were two topics Jerry never would have thought Ralph would find interesting, but actually, he was quite intrigued by the concepts. As Jerry read, his friend followed along closely with the words and the occasional picture, leaning on Jerry’s shoulder all cocooned in bed sheets.  
The window in the living room was open, and a breeze was making its way through the stuffy house. The sunshine was still plentiful. Within his little nest of blankets, Ralph was falling asleep to the soft wind and the birds chirping and Jerry’s peaceful, slow reading voice.  
“‘And they hoisted the nets up. Her shiny scales glistened in the sunlight…’” Jerry paused, looking to his side as he felt Ralph stirring. “Are you okay?”  
Ralph didn’t answer. He was just on the brink of falling into a deep sleep and was a little annoyed because he couldn’t get comfortable.  
He tossed and turned a little more before trying to wiggle under Jerry’s arm. Jerry, kind soul that he was, met Ralph halfway and carefully put his arm around his friend.  
The happy noise that sounded in Ralph’s throat was delightful. Jerry watched in awe as the blond man, quite possibly the cutest human being on the face of the earth, nuzzled up to his side and finally let the blankets fall away from his face. Within seconds his breathing slowed, and he had fallen asleep.  
“Why are you so cute?” Jerry asked no one in particular as Ralph’s pink-tipped nose twitched a little. He sighed with a small smile. “I suppose it’s just the Ralph charm, huh?”  
Jerry read on late into the evening, and from there, into the night. The sun went down while Ralph was snoozing (quite comfortably) in the crook of Jerry’s arm, and by the time he woke up the book had been read all the way through.  
“What time is it?” He asked, eyes still closed.  
“About eight thirty.”  
A yawn. “Does Jerry want to go home?”  
“That depends.” Jerry noticed with a frown that Ralph’s face was flushed again, dark pink. Perhaps he hadn’t kicked the fever quite yet. “Do you want me to?”  
Ralph’s eyes opened. “No, Ralph doesn’t want Jerry to go, but he understands if he must.”  
“Then I won’t.” The redhead ran his fingers through his friend’s blond hair. “You need anything?”  
“Um-hm,” Ralph nodded shyly. “Could Ralph have something to eat?”  
“Sure thing.” Jerry smiled and went to the kitchen to make something small for Ralph to eat. “Why don’t you walk around a bit and stretch your legs? If you feel up to it, that is.”  
“Okay,” Ralph nodded. “Ralph’ll be right back.”  
Tucking his blanket around his face once more, he shuffled around the house. As Jerry began to slice a banana for a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich, he heard a door shut somewhere in the house, followed shortly by the rushing of water out of a sink.  
Gosh, the pipes in this house are loud. Jerry finished making the sandwich and wandered to the back of the house to retrieve the glass Ralph had left on his nightstand earlier.  
Upon returning to the kitchen, he discovered that Ralph was back on the sofa, hiding in his pile of blankets.  
“Ready to eat, Ralph?”  
The blankets shifted, and Ralph popped his head out, promptly covering the left side of his face with his hand. “What’s that?”  
“A peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich.” Jerry set the plate down on the coffee table and went over to the fridge to pour some milk. “Hopefully you like both those things.”  
“Yes, Ralph does.” He hugged himself and looked out the window at the dark sky. Even here in the suburbs you could only see one or two stars, if you were lucky. Stars. Ralph liked stars. They were so far away, but so bright…and so silvery...and so magical.  
“Does Jerry like stars?” Ralph asked Jerry when he came back over to the sofa.  
“Yes, I do. They’re very pretty.” The redhead smiled sweetly. “Just like you.”  
The blond man felt himself blush beneath his own fingertips and made himself busy eating the peanut-butter-banana sandwich. A second or two later, he found himself deciding that he liked it a lot when Jerry sat down next to him and (subconsciously? maybe) put his arm around Ralph.  
“What kinds of shows are on late at night?” Jerry gestured to the television on the other side of the room. “I never did get a television—too expensive—but I like watching programs with other people.”  
“Mmm,” Ralph agreed. “Ralph is not sure, but he can find out.”  
Carefully, he set the sandwich half he had been munching on down and took up a blanket (So much like a little ghost, Jerry thought), padding over to the little set of drawers the television was resting on. The remote control was in the fifth drawer, he found out, and when he had it in his grasp he promptly turned and quietly thumped back to the sofa, handing it to Jerry, taking up his sandwich and milk again.  
The redheaded man sat for a moment, regarding Ralph in all his cute-little-ghost glory.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re adorable, Ralph? Because you are.”  
The soft chewing noises stopped, and a hazel eye peeked out from under the blanket. “Is Jerry sure about that?”  
“Yes, I am.” Jerry laughed a little.  
Ralph tucked himself back under the blanket, blushing fiercely. “No, no, that can’t be right. No, Ralph does not think so.”  
“Well, I think so.” Then, a hug. Despite his blanket, Ralph could feel how soft and warm Jerry was, and he loved it. If he listened closely, he could even hear Jerry’s heartbeat.  
And his stomach growling.  
“Is Jerry hungry?” Ralph asked at the same time Jerry said “Oh, dear.”  
“I guess I am,” The redhead admitted with a tinge of embarrassment.  
“Then Ralph will make you something to eat!” Ralph sprung up from the sofa, draping his blanket about his head and shoulders while trying to ignore the wave of dizziness that overcame him for a second or two.  
“Thank you, pumpkin, but are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” Jerry’s brow knitted together in worry as he watched Ralph sway a bit. “It’s really alright, I can just get something small. A granola bar, maybe.”  
Ralph considered this. “But Jerry needs something more. Like...a sandwich! Or some biscuits! Or some...hmm…some pasta! Ralph can make macaroni and cheese!”  
“That’s sweet of you, really, but—”  
“Yes, yes, Ralph will make macaroni and cheese,” He nodded decisively and strode to the kitchen, heaving a pot to the sink and setting on water to boil surprisingly fast. Jerry supposed Ralph knew his way around a stove well, but was still concerned about his friend’s white-knuckled grasp on the countertops.  
Ralph was having a fine time reading the instructions on the box and gathering ingredients when Jerry lightly tapped him on the shoulder and held up the thermometer for him.  
“Again?”  
“I know, I know, you’re tired of it,” The redhead accepted with a sad smile on his face. “But you look a little feverish, and I can’t tell very well with my wrists.”  
In went the thermometer. Ralph hummed to himself quietly and stirred in the noodles as the temperature ticked up, and he wondered what Jerry meant by his wrists. What good were those for in measuring sickness? He couldn’t be sure, and found himself asking aloud after the thermometer had beeped.  
“Jerry, what do your wrists have to do with anything?”  
It took him a moment, but he understood. “It’s a very informal way of telling if someone has a fever. You press your wrist to their forehead, and if their forehead is warmer than your wrist, then they probably have a fever.” A pause, a frown at the temperature. “It’s not a very exact method, but sometimes it helps if you’re in a pinch.”  
Ralph nodded slowly and stirred the noodles. “What does the thermometer say?”  
“One hundred point one,” Jerry’s worried frown deepened. “Honey, I know you want to be nice, but I really do think you should rest.”  
Ralph pretended that he couldn’t hear and that his arms didn’t get exhausted from shaking the noodles into a colander.  
“Ralph—”  
“Ralph is fine. And the macaroni is almost done.”  
Jerry chewed his lip nervously and watched as the blond man held onto the counter and wobbled dangerously, pouring milk and stirring soft butter into the pot of noodles.  
Carefully, Ralph reached a shaking hand up to the cupboard where the dishes were kept, and took down a bowl, searching through the silverware drawer for a spoon. Jerry stood by the stove and fought back the urge to chide Ralph about resting again as the blond man carefully scooped the freshly cooked macaroni and cheese into the bowl.  
“There.” He finally said, beaming behind his cacti-printed bed sheet.  
“Thank you, Ralph.” Jerry smiled back, but couldn’t hide his concern  
any longer. “Let’s go back to the couch, though, wouldn’t want you falling or anything like that. Is there anything in particular you want to watch?”  
“Mm-mm,” Ralph shook his head and leaned into Jerry’s side, holding onto him as they made their way back to the sofa. They settled side by side like before, and this time, the blond man took the initiative and lifted Jerry’s arm so he could snuggle closer as the television was switched on.  
Jerry laughed in delight. “You sure like that, don’t you?”  
“What?”  
“You like being close to people’s sides, right? It’s really endearing.”  
Ralph pressed his ear to Jerry’s chest and listened to his heartbeat before replying, “No.”  
Now it was Jerry’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”  
“Ralph doesn’t like being close to people.”  
“Then…what…” Jerry looked quite puzzled.  
“Ralph likes being close to you!”  
The confusion that had been clear on the redheaded man’s face melted away into a delighted smile, and his freckles seemed to stand out against the pinkish hue glowing on his cheekbones. Ralph listened to his heartbeat flutter and found he liked that he could do that—that he could make someone blissfully happy, if only for a second or two.  
“I like being close to you too,” Jerry murmured, still smiling and blushing.  
Neither of them was really sure what movie was playing, but it didn’t matter. Against the blueish glare and soft chatter of the television, they kept up their own conversation between bites of food. Upon Ralph’s request, Jerry filled him in on the chapters of the book he had missed while he was asleep, and they went on to talk about the upcoming holidays—Halloween and Thanksgiving and even Christmas. Jerry told stories about previous Halloweens that included all eleven brothers of his, and loved the little sparkle that Ralph got in his eye when he talked about all the costumes and the candy and the spooky air of the holiday. In turn, Ralph told him about some very nice neighborhood cats whom he had met earlier in the week, and what scented candles he had bought at the supermarket, which plants he liked the most— “Succulents are the cutest, Ralph thinks, but orchids are beautiful. Blue phalaenopsis orchids especially.” —and all about the baking he planned to do when he wasn’t sick.  
“Ralph likes to make things!” He concluded with a smile, and Jerry nodded in agreement, having finished his macaroni and cheese.  
“You certainly do. Thank you, pumpkin.” Ralph, unsuspecting, was pulled into another gentle hug. “You’re really kind, you know that?”  
Blushing a little, Ralph hid his face in Jerry’s shoulder. “Jerry is the one taking care of Ralph, though.”  
“And even though you’re sick, you still decided, out of the kindness of your heart, to make some food for me. Absolutely delicious food, might I add.”  
“Oh—well.”  
Jerry pulled back to look at his friend, who was doing his best to avert eye contact.  
“Ralph.”  
“Yes?”  
“Look at me.” His voice was firm, but still gentle.  
Ralph hesitantly looked, and resisted the urge to get lost in Jerry’s pretty forest-gold eyes.  
“Ralph,” He began, and with how softly he said it, Ralph almost wanted to shy away, to close his eyes and pretend he didn’t see the deep affection swimming in those pretty emerald-streaked irises.  
“Ralph, you are kind. And you are talented. And you are beautiful, even with your scars.” At this, Ralph subconsciously placed a hand over his left eye, which was still covered by the cacti-printed bed sheet. “Maybe you think I’m weird for saying that, but I can’t help it. You’re adorable, creative, and very determined, and if I could spend every moment of my life with you, I would.”  
Ralph had both hands covering his face now.  
“I know that’s really kind of…personal. And kind of deep. But I really want you to believe me. Do you believe me, Ralph?” A gentle touch to one of his wrists was all it took for Ralph to leap forward and wrap his arms about Jerry’s shoulders.  
“Aw, hey,” Jerry patted him gently. “You’re okay, pumpkin, you’re going to be just fine. Don’t you worry, you’re alright…”  
Ralph mumbled something into his collar.  
“What was that?”  
“I love you, Jerry.” He repeated, louder this time, and hoped to himself that the redheaded man was blushing beet red just like him, hoped desperately that Jerry wouldn’t fling him away, hoped that this wasn’t just some fever dream, that he could actually be something more than just half blind and in need of help—  
Jerry’s arms tightened around him in a reassuring squeeze. “I love you too, Ralph.”  
There were a few moments after that, punctuated by happy tears from Ralph and soothing hugs and smiles from Jerry, in which they at first did not notice what Ralph had really said. Jerry was running his fingers through Ralph’s messy wheat blond hair when it hit him.  
“Ralph!” He gasped, green eyes blown wide. Ralph jumped a little and his mind immediately concluded that he must have done something wrong.  
“What? What is it?!”  
“You said I love you!”  
“Yes, but—” And then, the second realization. “Oh. ...Oh!”  
“You said I,” Jerry cheered in delight. “Oh, Ralph, that’s wonderful!”  
“I can say it again, too!” Ralph beamed and laughed as Jerry picked him up and spun him around in excitement. “I love you! I love you!”  
Eventually they settled back down on the sofa, getting a bit dizzy and out of breath from spinning. Their smiles remained, though.  
“You make me feel better.” Ralph mentioned to Jerry, curling up to the redhead’s side once more, shyly pulling his cactus blanket away from his face. “About everything. Mostly, you make me feel better...in my heart. But I also think you’re making the sickness disappear.” He laughed cutely and Jerry felt his face heat up.  
“You make me feel better too, Ralph. You have no idea how sweet you are.” Another hug. Jerry tucked Ralph’s blond head under his chin. “You make me feel like I’m not alone anymore. With how strong and determined and beautiful inside-and-out you are—and of course, how adorable,” He added, feeling Ralph’s smile against his collarbone, “I would gladly spend the rest of my days with you. I love you, darling.”  
Happy, high-pitched noises emanated from Ralph’s throat at this. Jerry laughed a little and resumed his gentle combing of Ralph’s harvest gold hair, whispering sweet nothings into the nighttime.

 

As soon as Jerry woke up, he knew something was wrong. His face was too warm, his head hurt too much, his throat blistered like he was in the middle of the desert without a drop to drink. It hurt to open his eyes, but he did. Ralph was already awake, staring at him with a worried expression.  
“Jerry?”  
Jerry didn’t want to speak. The pained frown was enough for Ralph to see that something was definitely wrong. The blond man shuffled and placed his wrist on Jerry’s forehead.  
“You...you might have a fever.”  
Jerry nodded slowly.  
“I’ll get the thermometer. And some water.” Ralph was already up, walking around perfectly balanced. His immune system must have really kicked in overnight.  
Jerry rested his eyes again and listened to Ralph thumping quietly around the house.  
“Here.” The blond man had returned quickly. “Open your mouth.”  
Jerry did so and closed his mouth around the thermometer, arching an eyebrow at Ralph, who was smiling softly.  
“Hhmm?” Jerry hummed questioningly, wincing a little at the soreness of his throat.  
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that, well,” Ralph giggled to himself. “I get to take care of you now!”  
Despite the ache in his head and the stinging in his throat, Jerry smiled. He knew he was in good hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed :)  
> Also, please let me know if you find any spelling errors!


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